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Small snapshots of a city
Feb. 11th, 2003 07:00 amThoughts at looking at miles of baroque architecture. I thought of Peter the Great, commanding a modern city to be built in the north. Of Jefferson, writings in the age of reason and enlightenment. Beautiful buildings, amazingly decorated squares and boxes with red tile roofs. Or verdigris, dripping darkness down. Gilt accents, like a confection, brighter by the contrast of shadows. The city is visually stunning.
The glory of man, echoed a thousand times in every square and facade, with sculptures larger than life but perfectly proportioned. Black, white.. bronze reserved for the divine or supernatural.
Twisted, small little alleyways. Narrow streets. Wide, vast courtyards and squares. The contrast in what walking down each makes you think and feel is amazing. Read the stories of the ghetto, and it was so easy to imagine how one's entire life could be shaped by being raised in a narrow alley in which the sun never quite shines directly. How such a thing would make you think, would make you different than those with the money to live in the wide, broad buildings.
And still, to live and work in such a square. When would you start taking the beauty for granted? Stop looking at the men holding up the frame of the door, of day and night in recessed alcoves watching the street beyond? When would you forget that there are those who must creep along small, narrow streets and duck to enter their homes and bathrooms?
The glory of man, echoed a thousand times in every square and facade, with sculptures larger than life but perfectly proportioned. Black, white.. bronze reserved for the divine or supernatural.
Twisted, small little alleyways. Narrow streets. Wide, vast courtyards and squares. The contrast in what walking down each makes you think and feel is amazing. Read the stories of the ghetto, and it was so easy to imagine how one's entire life could be shaped by being raised in a narrow alley in which the sun never quite shines directly. How such a thing would make you think, would make you different than those with the money to live in the wide, broad buildings.
And still, to live and work in such a square. When would you start taking the beauty for granted? Stop looking at the men holding up the frame of the door, of day and night in recessed alcoves watching the street beyond? When would you forget that there are those who must creep along small, narrow streets and duck to enter their homes and bathrooms?
